The perspiration broke out on Bowers’s forehead.
“I thought I’d git married, if anybody that looked good to me would have me.”
“You’re not happy, Bowers?” she asked gently.
“I ain’t sufferin’, but I ain’t livin’ in what you’d call no seventh heaven.”
Kate smiled at the grim irony of his tone.
“It’s not up to much, this life of ours out here,” she agreed in a low voice.
“Nothin’ to look forward to—nothin’ to look back to,” he said bitterly.
“I understand,” Kate nodded.
“I never had as much home life as a coyote,” he continued with rebellion in his tone. “A coyote does git a den and a family around him every spring.” And he added shortly, “I’m lonesome.”